It's been a while since I've had this much alone time.
As a single parent I had 9 years of it.
I attempted some bead craft today but was slightly unsuccessful,
..so I gave up.
I figure my writing can't miss.
The radio is blasting. I need that noise right now. sometimes being alone brings out the old voices in my head that I fight with.
NO , I'm not schizophrenic, nor do I have Multiple Personality Disorders, but we all fight with the memories, the conversations, prior, the movies we played a starring role in over the course of our lives.
I struggle with all of it sometimes, not sure how to chuck the tape out; so to speak.
Sometimes I wish I had the gift of amnesia...
but part of me fears that Alzheimers will set in instead.
I don't want that.
I've been working on my Jane book. A alternate character of me who fights with the voices in her head, the images that reflect in the mirror, and the drawings on her walls.
She sees life in everything while some of her world tries to strip it from her.
Her journals are a vast, abundant library of memories, experiences...and still they continue to be written.
Jane lives my life.
Sometimes I wish I lived hers.
At times she seems to have it all together, she has the right reactions , where , sometimes, I do not.
She is logical, and ultimately fulfilled.
each chapter bringing closure, where my real world cannot seem to connect with the end of certain circumstances.
I know I could probably sweep things under the carpet , or burn the journals....
but my fear is that Jane would cease to live.
Relationships with women have been difficult for me in the past....but right now, Jane is vital to my creativity. Through writing Jane's life, I can see deeper into mine, compartmentalize better, turn the page and begin tackling the next chapter.
Chuck the things not neccessary and then move on.
Yeah, It's been difficult, cleaning up the mess left behind by others, removing the dead bodies. The ones that don't matter anymore, those that have walked away, leaving their footprints all over your doormat.
Jane is not a doormat...
Neither am I.
I am a writer.
Alone time, is vital to my life, to my creative self.
It is the breath of Jane.....
My words have brought her life...
Like when God created the earth, he spoke and said "Be" and then he saw that it was good.
I am a writer.
I am Jane.
....and I am good.
